


Jet Lag

by JasonVoorhees



Series: You gotta talk about your feelings [5]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, I Do Not Like Megatron, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Multi, Omega Supreme and the Constructicons deserve to be happy dammit, Sharing a Bed, coneheads being dumbasses, constructicons being angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasonVoorhees/pseuds/JasonVoorhees
Summary: Everyone is working steadily on the construction of the Decepticon ship. The Constructicons and Omega Supreme are slowly working on moving past the trauma of being brainwashed for four million years. Ramjet can't focus on anything because he's too busy thinking about how weird Autobots are, and trying to figure out exactly what he thinks is weird. Dirge and Thrust aren't very helpful.
Relationships: Blurr/Hardhead (Transformers), Constructicons/Omega Supreme (Transformers), Devastator/Omega Supreme, Dirge/Ramjet/Thrust, Skyfire/Starscream (mentioned)
Series: You gotta talk about your feelings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571764
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Jet Lag

One week. That was how long they had until the construction was completed and the Decepticon base was officially a Decepticon ship, and they could finally get off this Primus-forsaken planet. The Constructicons had ramped up the schedule and suddenly everyone was working longer shifts, except the reason they’d ramped it up was to meet their original completion date. The six of them had started a completely separate project that they claimed they could finish in one day, and Scrapper was apparently determined to still finish the ship on time. Did they have somewhere to be? Where were they going after that, anyway? Starscream hadn’t said anything yet.

“Ramjet!” Oh, there he was. “Why are you just standing there?”

Ramjet blinked his optics and focused on Starscream standing in front of him, arms crossed, with an annoyed look on his face. “I was just thinking,” Ramjet said.

“Well, I’m sorry,” said Starscream. “That must be very difficult for you. Where you planning to do some _work_ anytime today?”

Ramjet glanced around. His mind had wandered while Sixshot was giving him, Thrust, and Dirge some instructions, but Sixshot appeared to have left and his fellow seekers were nowhere to be seen. “Uhhh…” said Ramjet. “Yeah?”

“Then get a move on!” Starscream, said, making shooing motions with his hands. “We have one week! I don’t want to see _anyone_ standing around!”

“Yes, sir.” Ramjet turned and hurried out of the room. He had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to go, so as soon as he’d made it a few steps down the hall he commed Thrust. “Hey, Thrust? Where are you guys?”

“You didn’t call Thrust, you dunce,” came Starscream’s voice over the comm.

“Oops,” said Ramjet, immediately cutting the communication. He kept walking, and tried again. “Thrust?”

“No, you idiot!” Ramjet cut the call again.

On the third try, Starscream screeched, “Stop hanging up on me! I’m _trying_ to tell you where to go, you dimwitted seeker!”

“Ah… uh… sorry.” Starscream sounded pretty mad at him now.

“Communications room,” Starscream hissed, and Ramjet ran there as fast as he could.

When he got there, he was completely confused, because Dirge and Thrust _were_ in there, along with Chromedome and Hardhead, but most the communications equipment was gone. Ramjet stepped back out of the room and double-checked where he was, and yep, it was the communications room. Or maybe not anymore?

“What are you doing?” Dirge asked when Ramjet came in again.

“I was looking for you guys,” Ramjet said. “Starscream said you were in the communications room, but I don’t see any of the stuff. So I was making sure I went to the right place.”

“But we’re in here,” Thrust said. “Obviously you went to the right place.”

“No, I wasn’t sure this was actually the communications room,” Ramjet said, looking around. Three of the walls seemed to have been completely replaced, and the four bots in the room were surrounded by painting supplies.

“Okay, but if you decided it wasn’t the communications room,” Thrust said, “Would you have left and looked for us somewhere else?”

“I dunno, I guess,” said Ramjet.

Dirge and Thrust stared at Ramjet for a few moments, and he stared back. Then Dirge held out a large paintbrush and said, “We’re repainting the walls.”

“You guys have the weirdest discussions,” Chromedome said. He turned back to the wall he was painting.

“Is that Megatron?” Ramjet asked, examining the picture Chromedome was working on.

“Yeah!” said Chromedome. “Now I’m gonna paint Optimus kicking his butt.”

“What are you drawing?” Ramjet asked Hardhead, who was very slowly and carefully painting some sort of blue vehicle.

“It’s Blurr’s alt mode,” Hardhead said, not looking up.

“Oh,” said Ramjet. “That’s nice?”

“Thanks.”

Ramjet gathered some paint for himself and went to a blank spot on the wall, his thoughts wandering again. It was kind of weird for people to be open with their romantic relationships. Among the Decepticons, anyway. He supposed it had kind of gradually become a more acceptable thing in their ranks. Megatron hated it, and would deride anyone who showed any sort of public affection. Galvatron cared less, but he was so volatile and unpredictable they never knew what he’d get mad about. Scorponok, for the very short time he was in charge, didn’t seem to give a shit. And Starscream must be perfectly fine with it, seeing as he was openly in a relationship with Skyfire (an Autobot, no less!).

As a result of all that, few Decepticons had formed romantic attachments and those who did kept it very private. Ramjet couldn’t think of anyone here on Chaar who was seeing anyone else, honestly. He was pretty sure Motormaster and Breakdown had kind of a thing, but they were on Earth.

And on Earth, the Autobots were absolutely open about it, as the coneheads had learned on their recent visit. That was just one of the many things the Autobots did differently that Ramjet had found strange and unfamiliar.

“Ramjet, you’re spacing out again,” Thrust called. “Did you fuel up this morning?”

“Yes,” Ramjet said absently.

“Did you stay up all night?” Chromedome asked. “I get real spacey if I stay up all night.”

“Nah, he slept like an anvil,” Thrust said. “Had my left arm pinned all night.”

“And my right,” Dirge added.

“I’m fine!” Ramjet said. “I’m just thinking about stuff.”

“Huh,” said Chromedome. “I didn’t realize you guys all slept together. Are you, like… a trio?”

“Don’t be nosy,” Hardhead told him.

“Of course we’re a trio,” Thrust scoffed. “There’s three of us, isn’t there?”

“No, I meant, are you a thing,” Chromedome said. “Like Hardhead and Blurr.”

Ramjet, confused, turned to stare at Chromedome. Thrust and Dirge were also giving him blank looks. “No?”

“Oh,” said Chromedome, and Hardhead elbowed him and shook his head. Ramjet was struggling to make sense of the question. What did sleeping together have to do with a romantic relationship? Unless… “Is it weird that we sleep together?” He asked. They didn’t exactly advertise it, but he was sure it’d come up in a conversation with other Decepticons recently and no one blinked an optic. Maybe it was really weird for Autobots to do it.

Chromedome’s optics widened and he glanced at Hardhead, who offered no assistance. Thrust and Dirge were also waiting for an answer, their work momentarily forgotten. Finally Chromedome said, “No… uh, sorry for assuming.”

Ramjet looked at the other two seekers, who shrugged. “Must be an Autobot thing,” said Thrust, and went back to his painting, which was a ridiculously exaggerated picture of Dirge. Dirge was painting a picture of Thrust that he’d obviously gone out of his way to make ugly. Thrust added some goofy optics on his Dirge painting and Dirge immediately gave his Thrust picture a square head.

Ramjet left them be and started on his own blank space.

A few minutes later Blurr dashed in long enough to chat with Hardhead for a couple of minutes and then zoomed right back out. The blue Autobot seemed to be a lot less anxious than he was when he first got there, probably because Scrapper had given him a job that kept him running all day. He sure liked to run, and he was currently zipping all around the base with a datapad, updating it with everyone’s progress. Ramjet tried not to let his mind start wandering again (wondering how everyone else was getting along) and focused on his painting.

It was maybe about ten minutes after that when Hook showed up. He took one look around the room and heaved a deep sigh.

“Hey, Hook,” said Thrust. “What’s up?”

“Blurr updated me on your… progress,” Hook said. “I was kind of hoping he was kidding, but I guess we need to clarify something.”

Chromedome, Hardhead, and the seekers all paused in their work. “What do you mean?” Hardhead asked.

“Er, well,” said Hook, “you were meant to just paint the walls a solid color.”

“Uh,” said Dirge, looking back and forth between his ridiculous painting and Hook. “Really?”

Hook nodded.

“Ohhh,” said Thrust. “That explains why Ravage looked at me funny when I told him we needed fifteen different colors of paint.”

“Aw, man.” Chromedome’s shoulders slumped. “I was just putting the finishing touches on Optimus.”

“Yes, I see you all were being quite creative,” Hook said. “But I get the feeling Starscream won’t really want your pictures as permanent additions.”

“Mine is pretty ugly,” Dirge admitted.

“Mine’s uglier,” Thrust retorted.

Hardhead sighed. “I couldn’t capture his true beauty anyway.”

“I don’t see why Starscream wouldn’t want _mine_ to stay,” Chromedome said. “See, Megatron’s getting his butt kicked. What did you paint, Ramjet?”

“Um, dead Megatron,” Ramjet said.

“Oh ho, couldn’t resist copying my great idea, huh?” Chromedome trotted over to see. “Did you put Optimus in there, too?”

“No,” said Ramjet. “Just him all blasted to bits.” He pointed. “And his head’s over here.”

Chromedome nodded. “It’s not as good as mine, but I approve. I bet Starscream will love it.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’d want pictures of Megatron at all,” Hook said doubtfully. He made a face at Ramjet’s painting. “Is that supposed to be his spark?”

“Yeah,” said Ramjet. “I hadn’t finished adding in all the body parts yet.”

“That’s kind of violent,” Hardhead commented.

“Not as violent as Megatron was,” Ramjet said.

“That’s true,” Thrust agreed.

“Well,” said Hook, “Sorry, but you’ll have to paint the room properly. You can take some photos if you want to save your paintings.”

“Whaaaat,” Chromedome complained. “Come on, can’t we ask Starscream first?”

“I don’t think he’s got time to come up here right now,” Hook said.

“Okay, well, how about we paint all the walls _around_ our pictures, and ask him then?” Chromedome looked quite proud of that idea.

“You know what, fine, do that,” said Hook. “But please start painting the walls now. We’re on a schedule here, and you haven’t actually done any the work you were supposed to.”

Outside the base, the Constructicons were halfway finished with their one-day project, which was a room for Omega Supreme. The huge guardian hadn’t lived indoors since their long-ago days on Cybertron, and the Constructicons had every intention of expanding on their project once they got back to Earth. Scrapper had engineered it so it could be easily collapsed and towed when they did head back. Which was in one week. Hook had been doing a lot of thinking about that.

“So what were they doing?” Mixmaster asked when Hook rejoined his fellow combiners at their construction site.

“Painting pictures, like Blurr said,” Hook replied.

Scrapper groaned. “Did you get them to do it right?”

“Sort of,” said Hook. “They’re painting around their pictures.”

Scavenger, who was welding, paused and asked, “What did they paint?”

“Each other,” said Hook, shrugging. “And Megatron dying.”

“Oh.” Scavenger didn’t resume his work, he just stood there staring at the ground. Megatron was, obviously, a sore spot for all of them, since he’d brainwashed them into being loyal to him for millions of years. The brainwashing had continued with Galvatron, since he was (sort of?) still Megatron.

The Constructicons had found themselves abruptly disoriented after Galvatron’s death, and that was only a month or so ago. To make matters worse, they’d found out soon after that Omega Supreme had been affected by the same reprogramming machine, and he’d lost nearly all emotional feeling except for anger towards the Constructicons. That, too, had suddenly reverted upon Galvatron’s death, and although they’d been reunited, Hook knew they hadn’t all been able to come to terms with it yet. And Scavenger had always been the most sensitive of them.

Omega Supreme, who was sitting nearby listening quietly, reached out and placed his large claw around Scavenger. “Is Scavenger all right?” Omega Supreme asked.

Scavenger turned around and clung to Omega Supreme’s arm. “No.”

No one asked what was wrong. They all knew. They had talked about it—amongst themselves, and to Omega Supreme—but there were so many other things they’d done, so many other questions, _was it us or was it the brainwashing?_ And Hook wasn’t sure they’d ever get answers.

He remembered conflicting feelings. Fighting Omega Supreme as Devastator and wishing it didn’t have to be that way. Justifying things Megatron did that should have horrified him—sometimes things that made him downright sick, but there was always that fierce loyalty, that unwavering subservience to the Decepticon leader. There had also always been that underlying emptiness, that odd twisting feeling in the back of his head all those years, that something had been off. It was a quiet feeling, frequently overpowered by the brainwashing, but it had been there.

It was hard to describe what happened when Galvatron died. At first it was like being lost. With Megatron/Galvatron gone, there was suddenly no feeling at all. Loyalty to nothing, purposelessness, and then, a dawning realization that something had gone wrong. What followed was a wave of emotions crashing over them so suddenly that they’d all fallen to the ground from the sheer intensity of it. Scavenger had started crying, and Scrapper, always the organized one, had herded them all away from the rest of the Decepticons and they’d hidden in their room for days figuring it out.

What they knew for sure was that they’d done horrible things, and they missed Omega Supreme terribly. They’d spent a week trying to pretend nothing was wrong before Astrotrain, Blitzwing, and Octane had shown up on Chaar and everything snowballed from there.

Omega Supreme pulled Scavenger into a hug, and Hook thought, at least we all have each other again. Except he was about to mess that up.

“Hook?” said Long Haul, climbing down the scaffolding and hopping off to land in front of Hook. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Sort of,” said Hook. “I need to tell you guys something, but right now’s probably not the best time.”

The other Constructions all turned to look at him. “Well you can’t just say that and then not tell us,” said Bonecrusher.

“Yeah,” agreed Scavenger, still clinging to Omega Supreme.

“I—okay,” Hook said. Mixmaster, Scrapper, and Bonecrusher all stopped what they were working on and gathered next to Hook, waiting expectantly. Hook steeled his nerves and said, “I’m going to stay with the Decepticons.”

His fellow combiners were silent. They didn’t look upset, just… contemplative.

“Is there a reason in particular?” Mixmaster asked, because apparently he could think of several.

“A couple,” Hook said quietly. “I’m the only medic.” And he was a medic by now. He wasn’t when he started, he’d never had actual training, he had no certification. All he had was a knack, and the willingness to try, and after four million years of trial and error and experience, he thought he could probably go ahead and call himself that. And he’d had a _lot_ of experience.

“That’s true…” Scrapper said. “But couldn’t someone else learn?”

“Maybe,” said Hook. “Eventually. But I… listen. You guys know how many bots I fixed on the regular when Megatron was in command, right?”

Bonecrusher winced. “All of them,” he said quietly. “Including us.”

Hook nodded. Not all the Decepticons were aware of the sheer volume of damage that Megatron used to do to his troops, because they didn’t talk about it much amongst themselves. But Hook knew. He knew because he’d repaired every broken strut, every shattered cockpit, every dented and mangled piece of plating throughout the war, and he knew full well which injuries weren’t a result of battling Autobots.

And when the Constructicons combined to form Devastator, they combined their thoughts and minds and memories too, so all the Constructicons knew everything Hook did. They knew that Megatron did it to keep people afraid of him. They knew that some of the injured bots came to Hook on their own, and some of them Megatron dragged in, demanding they be refit for active duty. They knew that Megatron had targeted Rumble on purpose, probably as a way of keeping Soundwave in line. The only thing _all_ the Decepticons knew was that Starscream was the one who’d been fixed the most. And that was clearly done as an example.

When Galvatron had shown up it hadn’t been any better. It was worse, actually, because he’d attack for absolutely no reason, and there were no “let this be a lesson” injuries—ones Megatron knew Hook could fix quickly. Instead they were random and brutal. Despite the brainwashing still being in place at the time, Hook was relieved when he heard that Astrotrain had run off. Galvatron’s abuse had been starting to have psychological effects on the triple-changer in addition to physical, and Hook, as a doctor, had been getting concerned.

But then Galvatron died, and Scorponok took over, and he may have run things horribly but he was too lazy to beat people. A low bar to set, but the Decepticons _had_ been marginally happier with Galvatron gone. But now…

“Since Starscream took command,” Hook said, “I’ve barely had to fix anyone. And it’s all been the result of accidents and squabbles. I’ve just spent so much time repairing everyone in that base, and things are finally, _finally_ getting better. I want to keep seeing them get better.” Primus, he wanted that so badly. All those hardened soldiers, all those rough and tough Decepticons, and Hook had witnessed so many of them hurt, and nearly broken, and it made his spark ache thinking about how many of them he’d seen cry. “I want to _help_ them get better.” Hook smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I know you can’t form Devastator without me, and it’ll be… really weird being apart from you guys, but this is something I need to do.”

“Aw, Hook,” said Scrapper, and hugged him tightly. “You big dummy.”

Mixmaster, Bonecrusher, and Long Haul all joined in the hug as well, and Scavenger hurried over to wiggle his way in.

“Hook,” said Mixmaster, “You can’t mix up remedies worth a damn. How are you gonna treat your patients if you can’t make medicine?”

“Hey, I can—” Hook began, but Mixmaster interrupted him.

“I’ll stay too.”

“Me, too,” Long Haul added.

“No, no,” Hook said. “I’m not trying to make you all stay. You can go back to Earth like we all wanted! Please don’t stay on my account.”

“You’re so dumb, Hook,” Bonecrusher said, squeezing him. “What we all _wanted_ was to be with Omega Supreme, and he’s right here. Even when he has to go back to Earth, we can visit, but we’re sure as hell not leaving you behind.”

Hook thought he was about to tear up. He really didn’t want them to feel like they had to pick him over Omega Supreme, and he didn’t want them to—he wanted them to be happy. Well, there was an easier way than putting it into words. He transformed into his crane mode, which rather messed up the group hug, but the other Constructicons caught on and followed his lead. A minute later they were joining into Devastator.

The experience was a little stranger now. This was only the third time they’d combined since the de-programming, and it was more intense than before. Because not only were they sharing thoughts and memories, they were sharing emotions, and their emotions were no longer hampered by the brainwashing.

The first time post-brainwashing they’d just been a mess, worried and scared and guilty and confused and so overwhelmed they’d been pushing each other’s consciousness away.

The second time was after Omega Supreme arrived, and they’d been nervous but downright giddy, and when they combined they realized something, a deep feeling regained from long ago, that they’d all tactfully not mentioned to each other because they thought they were the only one: they were in love with Omega Supreme. They’d laughed happily about that for quite awhile afterward.

That, however, was why Hook didn’t want them to stay just because of him. The other five Constructicons deserved to go be happy with Omega Supreme, and he communicated this as clearly as possible to them through their shared mental state.

The emotions he got in response were exasperation and affection, and a crystal-clear message of _Hook you absolute moron we love you too._

Then Hook did want to cry, and it got a bit contagious so Devastator let out a few tears. Omega Supreme immediately went to them.

“Is Devastator all right?” Omega Supreme asked worriedly.

The Constructicons all tried to answer, but they all tried to word it differently and they had to somehow coordinate and simplify it to get it to come out of the one voicebox they all shared at the moment (that was nothing new. It was always a struggle speaking as Devastator). “Devastator will stay,” they said.

Omega Supreme nodded, and said, “Then Omega Supreme will stay. If Devastator approves. If Constructicons approve.”

The Constructicons were first surprised, then excited, then downright overjoyed, and they tried to answer but they weren’t used to wrangling quite so many emotions yet and what came out of Devastator’s mouth was the absolutely _mortifying_ “Devastator loves Omega Supreme,” and the Constructicons were so embarrassed that they tumbled apart and lay there on the ground pretending to be dead.

Omega Supreme wasn’t fooled in the least, and he knelt down in front of them and said, “Omega Supreme also loves all of you dearly.”

Scavenger bolted upright. “D-do you really?”

“Yes,” said Omega Supreme, smiling softly. Scavenger all but dove into his arms, and the rest of them picked themselves up off the ground and followed. Omega Supreme embraced them all gladly, and Hook found himself absolutely amazed with how quickly their whole life had turned around in so short a time. They could be _happy_ , and they could help others be happy at the _same time_ , and it was such an alien feeling. But here he was, in the middle of a giant metal snuggle pile, and he let the feeling wash over him and positively relished it.

Once the three seekers and two Autobots actually put their minds to it, they got a lot of painting done fairly quickly and efficiently. They’d gotten everything done except the spots with their paintings, and the next time Blurr zipped in Chromedome asked him to see if Starscream could come up so they could talk to him. Blurr paused before leaving to get a little flustered and shy over Hardhead’s painting of him, then ran off and returned a moment later to tell them Starscream was busy.

“Well!” said Chromedome. “That settles it, then—the paintings stay.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Hardhead, who had changed his opinion on his painting after Blurr said he really liked it.

“Oh, good,” said Ramjet. “Then I can add some more details.” He dragged over multiple colors of paint and began touching up his picture.

“Me, too,” said Chromedome. “In fact, I’m going to paint a frame around it!”

“A frame?” Dirge repeated, tilting his head.

“Not like a frame frame,” Chromedome said, gesturing to himself. “It’s a border. Like a decorative thing. Humans like to put them around their pictures. Usually they’re not painted on, but I think it’ll look cool anyway.”

Thrust and Dirge watched curiously as Chromedome painted a frame onto the wall, and Hardhead asked Blurr, “What’s Starscream busy with?”

“He-was-talking-with-Omega-Supreme-and-the-Constructicons-so-probably-something-to-do-with-scheduling-maybe-I-was-going-to-ask-the-Constructicons-what-else-they-needed-me-to-check-up-on-but-they-said-they’d-tell-me-when-they-were-done-talking-to-Starscream-maybe-I-should-go-check.” Blurr bounced up and down on the ends of his feet.

“Maybe,” said Hardhead. “Or you could hang out for a bit.”

Blurr’s face broke into a smile. “Okay!”

Hardhead sat on the floor and patted the spot next to him. “Tell me about what you’ve been doing today?”

Blurr plopped down next to Hardhead and began talking, and Ramjet swore that he talked for five straight minutes before stopping (Ramjet really couldn’t understand most of it, either), then Hardhead asked another question and Blurr started right back up. The two Autobots were an odd pair, but they seemed to go together very well.

Ramjet’s thoughts wandered back to Autobot City on Earth, and the unusual way they conducted themselves there. Well, he thought he’d figured out the correct word—casual. They were casual. Decepticons were not casual, they had to watch themselves around their leader, at least in terms of doing anything deemed _weak._ Mocking was accepted, bullying was accepted, fighting and violent behavior wasn’t exactly frowned upon. But pats and hugs and—Primus forbid—kisses? That might get you a lecture about focusing on your duties, or it might put you on the receiving end of the aforementioned violence. You couldn’t be casual, you had to be careful.

Well, not anymore. Not with Megatron and Galvatron gone. Perhaps with this peace, the Decepticons would be able to act more casual too. Ramjet wasn’t sure what, exactly, that might entail though. Or what, exactly, he might want to be casual about.

Static crackled in his audials and he heard Thrust’s voice coming both through the comm link and from right behind him. “Yoo-hoo! Thrust to Ramjet! Are you there?”

“Don’t do that,” Ramjet complained. “The echo gets my receivers all mixed up.”

“Well, I was trying to talk to you and you weren’t listening,” Thrust said.

“Oh,” said Ramjet. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re a doofus,” Thrust replied. “You’re thinking an awful lot today, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“What about?”

Ramjet shrugged. “Just how the Autobots do stuff differently. It’s weird. Do you think we’ll end up doing stuff differently, since we’re all working together?”

“Probably?” Thrust said. “It depends what stuff?”

“Yeah,” Ramjet agreed.

“Hey, dum-dums!” came Rumble’s voice from the doorway. “What’d you want Starscream for?” Ramjet and Thrust turned to see him strolling in, Soundwave right behind him.

“We don’t need him anymore,” Dirge said.

“Are you sure,” said Soundwave, looking around at the artwork on the wall.

“Yep, we got it settled,” Chromedome replied brightly. “How’s the construction schedule? On time?”

Rumble obviously knew why he was asking, because he said, “Oh, sure. But the Constructicons just told Starscream they’re gonna stay here. And Omega Supreme is, too. So they won’t be leaving when it’s finished.”

“Wait, what?” Chromedome said. “How are we going to get back to Earth?”

“Starscream said he’s gonna keep you after all,” Rumble said smugly.

Chromedome gasped. “That’s what he thinks! We’ll steal another shuttle if we have to! Imma go tell him to get fucked.”

“I would advise against that,” Soundwave spoke up. “His response would most likely embarrass Skyfire a great deal.”

“He can’t keep us here!” Chromedome said. “We’d be prisoners! We’re supposed to have peace!”

“Correct,” said Soundwave. “As such, the first stop once this ship is operational will be Earth.”

Chromedome had no response to that. Rumble snickered, and he and Soundwave turned and left.

“Wow,” said Hardhead. “He really just stood there and let Rumble get you riled up for no reason.”

“Soundwave’s cassettes are the worst brats I’ve ever met,” Chromedome said finally. “But! Soundwave didn’t give us another assignment. You three wanna work on your game?”

Ramjet brightened. “Yeah!”

They all trooped up to the third level and went to the coneheads’ quarters. Dirge was dumping all the chips in a messy pile on the floor when Chromedome piped up, “Oh, you guys do have just one big recharge table, huh. I guess I didn’t notice last time.”

“Yeah?” said Thrust. “How else would we sleep together? On the floor?”

“If you wanted to, I guess,” Chromedome said. “I didn’t realize it was a permanent thing, though.”

“Chromedome, don’t pry,” Hardhead said. “It’s not your business.”

Blurr seemed a little confused, as he’d missed the previous conversation. “It-doesn’t-matter-if-you-sleep-on-the-same-recharge-table-I-don’t-see-why-it’d-be-a-big-deal-I-sleep-over-in-Hardhead’s-quarters-sometimes.”

“You mean all the time,” Chromedome said, and Blurr’s face turned red. “But it’s different, isn’t it? You two love each other.”

“Chromedome,” Hardhead said. “That was pretty rude. You should apologize.” He pointed to the coneheads, who were just staring blankly.

Chromedome looked guiltily at the floor, then up at the seekers. “Um. Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Er, okay,” said Dirge.

“So are we gonna play?” Thrust asked. He’d already started sorting through the chips. Everyone answered affirmatively and they got started.

They played for quite a long time before Hardhead and Blurr excused themselves, saying it was getting a bit late. Ramjet was pretty sure it was because Blurr was getting antsy, but he didn’t say anything except to wish them a good night. Blurr obviously liked to do things quickly, so Ramjet doubted he found the game as much fun as the seekers did. They got a kick out of making it go on for as long as possible. Eventually it did get late, and they decided to leave the game set up in their room and pick up the next day (they used to play in the hallway to annoy people, but it wasn’t possible with all the construction going on).

Once Chromedome bade them goodnight and left, the seekers all clambered onto their recharge table. Thrust and Dirge seemed to drift off fairly quickly, but Ramjet couldn’t sleep. It’s not that he wasn’t comfortable—the coneheads could usually get comfortable easily no matter how they piled together. Thrust was laying on his back with his left arm stretched out; Ramjet was on his side with his head resting on Thrust’s arm and his own left arm slung over Thrust’s front; Dirge was on his side behind Ramjet, also resting his head on Thrust’s arm, and he had both of his own arms firmly wrapped around Ramjet’s middle.

It wasn’t anything odd that he couldn’t sleep. It happened sometimes, his mind started wandering and he couldn’t stop thinking about things no matter how tired he was. But what he was thinking about tonight was kind of odd, and he _really_ wanted an answer.

“Hey, guys,” Ramjet said. They didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure if they were asleep or ignoring him, but he didn’t really care, and said louder, “Guys.”

Thrust let out a noise that sounded like a broken garbage disposal.

Dirge just sighed, and mumbled against the back of Ramjet’s neck, “Yeh.”

“Do we love each other?” Ramjet asked.

“Gnngh… is that what you’ve been spacin’ about all day…” Thrust didn’t sound like he’d completely woken up. “I dunno.”

Dirge sighed again and said, “…never thought about it.”

“Oh,” said Ramjet. “Do you want to think about it?”

“I wanna go to sleep,” Thrust grumbled.

Dirge didn’t say anything. Ramjet wondered if he’d fallen back to sleep. He ought to just stop thinking about it and go into recharge, but he hadn’t actually gotten an answer from either of them. He could just wait and ask in the morning. That never worked, though. Maybe he should just get up and find something to do, since he couldn’t sleep anyway. He could go down to the mess hall and get some energon, even though he wasn’t hungry. But if he got up he might wake Thrust and Dirge up, and even if he didn’t he’d definitely wake them up getting back onto the table. He decided to just lay there and be as quiet as possible.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Dirge said tiredly, “Ramjet, I know you’re still awake.”

“Sorry,” said Ramjet.

“Mmm,” Dirge said dismissively. “I don’t know if it’s what you meant, but I don’t think I can live without you guys.”

Ramjet thought about that. “Maybe,” he said. “I’m not really sure what I meant.”

Thrust groaned and shifted his weight. “You know what,” he said. “If I didn’t love you two, I don’t think I’d be putting up with this on top of letting _both_ of you use my arm as a pillow. So yeah, I probably do. Now go to sleep.” Thrust reached over with his free arm in what was probably an attempt to smack Ramjet in the face, but there was so little force behind it that it was more of a gentle pat.

“I am asleep,” Dirge mumbled, tightening his hold on Ramjet. Thrust tried to smack him too, but he couldn’t reach so he just patted Ramjet again.

“Okay,” Ramjet whispered. A familiar feeling bloomed in his spark, warm and soft. And although he was used to getting that feeling around Dirge and Thrust, he thought maybe he’d finally figured out the name for it, and he drifted into recharge feeling quite content.

**Author's Note:**

> the coneheads are gay but they're pretty dumb so I'm not sure they actually know they're gay


End file.
